


Lost and Found

by lunabee34 (Lorraine)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1363954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is for Ana_grrl who requested Lorne, pushed into moss, memory, fingers, and green plastic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ana_grrl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ana_grrl).



Lorne is face down in the moss, twigs poking him in the cheeks and the damp of the earth soaking into his BDUs. He doesn’t know where he is exactly or how he got here. He remembers eating dinner with the locals on MX7-043. He remembers Parrish’s fingers circling his wrist under the table for the briefest of moments, his index finger tapping lightly just over Lorne’s pulse, a promise for later. He remembers walking with the chief to the ceremonial caves on the northern border of the village, and after that he remembers nothing. Lorne thinks there’s something skirting the edges of his memory—a blistering pain and the disgusting sweetness of plastic burning—but nothing solidifies.

He tries to sit up and the pain hits him again in the small of the back. Lorne reaches around and his fingers slide into the wet mess of an open wound. He stares at his hand stupidly, at his knuckles stained a brilliant red, at the blood coating the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. Lorne really thinks a cut like this should hurt more, but it doesn’t. Instead he mostly feels cold and tired, so he puts his head back down on the moss, this time with his face turned to the side so he can breathe without sucking up a lungful of dirt.

Lorne thinks he sleeps because later he wakes to Parrish’s fingers brushing leaves out of his hair, to Parrish’s voice gone all thick and funny and begging, something Lorne would tease him about for sure if he could just understand what Parrish was saying.

When he wakes again, Lorne is in the infirmary and Parrish is sleeping in a chair next to his bed. Parrish’s neck is bent at an awkward angle and he’s drooling down onto his science blues. His fingers are a warm weight on top of Lorne’s own and Lorne waves the nurses back, lets Parrish rest for awhile.


End file.
